I have a suspicion.
Not about ancient wisdom.
About ourselves.
I suspect most people spend the first decade of their lives becoming who they are…
…and the next several decades becoming someone else.
Not intentionally.
Lovingly.
Patiently.
Almost invisibly.
We begin life remarkably authentic.
Watch a young child long enough and you’ll notice something adults often overlook.
They know what delights them.
They know what feels unfair.
They know what captures their attention.
They notice details no one else sees.
They are endlessly curious.
Endlessly expressive.
Their interests arise naturally, long before anyone asks them what they want to be when they grow up.
Then something begins to change.
Parents want them to succeed.
Teachers want them to excel.
Coaches want them to compete.
Friends want them to belong.
The world slowly begins asking a different question.
Not…
Who are you?
But…
Who should you become?
There is nothing malicious about this.
In many ways, it is simply another expression of love.
Every generation wants the next one to suffer a little less than they did.
So we teach.
We protect.
We encourage.
We prepare.
And without realizing it, we often begin rewarding performance more than authenticity.
Comparison more than curiosity.
Achievement more than alignment.
The child doesn’t disappear.
The child adapts.
If you’ve read my essay When the Veil Begins to Thin, you’ll recognize this pattern immediately.
Another layer.
Another successful survival strategy.
Another brushstroke on the masterpiece we painted in order to move safely through the world.
The veil grows thicker.
For years, I struggled to understand where this transformation fit within the larger journey of human development.
Then I found myself returning once again to the ancient chakra model.
Not because I see it as a mystical belief system.
But because I have come to see it as something remarkably practical.
A measuring stick.
A developmental yardstick.
A way of asking a profoundly simple question:
Where is my nervous system organizing itself today?
I don’t think the chakras are asking us to believe in invisible wheels of energy.
I think they are describing recognizable stages in the maturation of human consciousness.
The Root asks,
“Can I remain safe when life becomes uncertain?”
The Sacral asks,
“Can I remain emotionally fluid instead of becoming emotionally rigid?”
The Solar Plexus asks something entirely different.
“Do I know who I actually am beneath performance, comparison, expectation, and fear?”
To me, that question changes everything.
Because I have come to believe the Solar Plexus is where most modern development quietly stalls.
Not because we stop growing.
Because we stop remembering.
Somewhere around the age of ten, most children already possess the raw materials of an authentic life.
They know what fascinates them.
What offends their sense of justice.
What kinds of people energize them.
What they naturally notice that others overlook.
What kind of work feels like play.
What kind of problems they cannot stop trying to solve.
The blueprint is already emerging.
But instead of helping them deepen that knowing, we gradually ask them to exchange it for another currency.
Approval.
Status.
Performance.
Security.
Comparison.
The question slowly changes from,
“Who are you?”
to,
“Who will the world reward you for becoming?”
I don’t believe this is where we lose ourselves.
I think this is where we simply stop trusting what we already knew.
Perhaps that is why so many adults eventually find themselves searching.
Not because something is missing.
Because something has been waiting.
Waiting beneath the expectations.
Beneath the achievements.
Beneath the fear of disappointing others.
Waiting beneath the veil.
The forgotten sun has never stopped shining.
It has only been hidden behind the beautiful layers we built to survive.
Every authentic practice eventually invites us back toward it.
Meditation.
Yoga.
Prayer.
Nature.
Service.
Reiki.
Silence.
Even some of the newest developmental practices exploring intuition and perception.
Different paths.
One invitation.
Remember who you were before the world became so loud that you could no longer hear yourself.
I don’t believe the Solar Plexus is asking us to become powerful.
I think it is asking us to become honest.
Because until we rediscover our own truth, we cannot fully live it.
Until we live it, we cannot fully love ourselves.
And until we love ourselves, the Heart never opens in the way it was always capable of opening.
Perhaps that is why the ancients placed the Heart above the Sun.
Not because love comes first.
Because truth does.
The forgotten sun is not waiting somewhere out in the future.
It has been quietly shining inside you since the very beginning.
Our work is not to create its light.
Only to remember how to stand in it.
